Page 5

“No.”

A simple word. Two letters, one syllable. Most toddlers understood it, and yet I’d already said it three times. It wasn’t computing.

I was stuck in a ridiculously small, overcrowded office, paying for my crime by way of the worst ordeal I’d ever lived through: employment.There was no escaping from the blond brute’s nagging. At least not for another three hours.

Though inarguably privileged as a Regis, I’d always worked. I would have been incredibly bored otherwise. But I used to fill my days laboringfor myself—and bathing in a ridiculous amount of money for my effort.

Now I was a member of the Guard. A government official. I had a shiny gold badge and everything. It read, “Lucian Regis, Protector, Level Two.”

I could have vomited.

I would have gladly taken a few months of prison instead of this farce, if that had been an option on the table for me. Then I could have worked on the damn rune translation I’d meant to carve out some time to look at, or finish submitting patents for some of the potions I developed.

"Come on, Regis, don't be a spoilsport. You're leaving us forever in mere days. Youhaveto let me throw you a party."

At long last, this nightmare was almost over. The reminder nearly brought the ghost of a smile to my lips, but I stopped myself. Gideon didn’t need any encouragement. The half year of labor my brother condemned me to would come to an end next Friday, in less than two weeks.

I shouldn’t indulge the ridiculously friendly coworker I’d gotten to know—and didn’t actually dislike—but I decided to attempt reason. “And who, pray tell, would attend the farewell do of Lucian Regis on this side of the city?”

“Everyone,” he retorted with a dismissive snort. “Out of curiosity if nothing else.”

All right, I had to concede that point. He wasn’t as blind and naive as he seemed.

“Besides, you literally saved my life today.Again. What kind of a man would I be if I didn't buy you a drink or ten?”

I sighed, thoroughly exhausted. That must be his method: attempt to wear me down until I gave up simply to make him stop speaking. But after yet another half week full of inane research projects, deadlines, and paperwork, thelastthing I needed was to spend more time with my “coworkers.”

Gideon wasn’t the worst company, and there were a few members of the Guard that I wouldn’t have qualified as a complete waste of space. That did not make us drinking buddies. I had my own crowd in the underside.

Unders were simpler, more honest, and more fun than their uptight valers counterparts.

"I accept direct deposits, mountains of gold, unnamed favors, and thralls, in exchange for life debts. Pass on the drink."

"I owe you like, three of each so far.” Gideon seemed to find the fact that he would have literally perished had he been alone, on multiple occasions, hilarious.

Watching him laugh, I wondered how long he’d survive after I left.

The thought made me frown. He truly wasn’t the worst.

“Jokes aside, the department will miss you. You sure you don't want to stay on? The job suits you."

I grimaced. The genuinely annoying thing was, Gideon wasn’t…entirely mistaken.

All right, the job did not suck. It wasn’t like I was a lowly runner—the officers patrolling the city, throwing their weight around—or worse yet, one of the inquisitors in charge of figuring out inner-city crime. Highvale was home to three million people, and most were too dangerous to live anywhere else. Stash enough vampires, shifters, witches, fae, demigods, within five square kilometers, of course there was going to be plenty of rumpuses. Running around after miscreants would have been torture.

I assumed that would be my position when I started here, but the Guard assessed my abilities and promptly bumped me up to their highest rank, the elite guard who had the sole mission to seek out dangerous threats to the world.

The protectors of the Highvale Guard handled major paranormal disturbances, from feral fiends, to occasional demons trying to make their way into the city, to desperate cries of help from mortal dealing with objects or individuals they weren’t equipped to face. Various governments called for aid when they couldn’t handle the things that went bump in the night.

At the very least, being a protector wasn’tboring—though I despised the overly formal paperwork I was currently drafting.

I was man enough to admit it: it could be fun. Just this week, Gideon and I sent two full-blooded demons back to one of the hells, brought in a coffer luring mortals into a mansion and promptly assassinating them—not a mimic, I checked. Thenthere was that ogre stash full of amusingly cursed relics. And that was by Wednesday.

The job in and of itself was fine. If I were anyone else, I might have seriously considered staying on.

It was the endless forms to fill in, the company—Gideon excluded—and the simple principle of beingemployed by the council of eldersthat I couldn't abide for one second longer than legally necessary.

That and the fact that I could earn thousands of golds per hour in my other ventures. I didn’t need to work for anyone but me.